Eddie and I had lunch together at a little hole-in-the-wall burrito place yesterday afternoon. The seating was tight, and the line to order was a disorganized clusterflock of people--in order for the staff to get a customer's attention, they had to shake a maraca over the noise. Most importantly, this place has the best Mexican food for under $6 in the Financial District. Over our respective chicken burritos, we talked about his cat, my blog, all the stuff in between.
Seeing Eddie on these casual occasions, a lunch yesterday or a quick walk tomorrow, reminds me that as difficult as our breakup may have been, there was a time, six years ago, when we were just two people interested in getting to know each other better, that we had qualities the other was interested in knowing. Things weren't difficult; all that laid before us were hope and the thrill of discovery.
I barely even remember what it felt like when we decided to end our relationship. I know it was hard, the protracted process painful, but it now feels like a very short interlude sandwiched between the story itself and the epilogue.
And the story was good. All I want to remember from the story is good, from singing along with Stevie B at a 90s flashback concert to dancing together under a multi-colored cloud while techno music deafened us. And so much more. In these memories, he was a flawless romantic who knew how to make me feel like there was no one else in this ever-widening world, and I was this lovable guy who made him laugh, showed him the promise of a future together. In this story, I was a champion of love, he a hopeful hero who loved with wild abandon.
Of course and obviously, our relationship was not perfect. If I take the rose-tinted contact lenses out, I can clearly see that I demanded more of his attention than he was able to give; he felt stifled by the stagnant and sequestered life I wanted. It took us so long to move on with our lives, but when I sat across from him at lunch yesterday, it all seemed like a distant dream, one I can only describe in phrases and feelings, nothing concrete. Yes, our relationship was flawed, paralyzingly difficult at times, but that we found a way to be friends afterwards proves to me that we did good for each other. Possibly even doing better now.
As I listened to him describe his plans for a sabbatical in Asia and Australia, I felt only completely at ease, not only with him but myself when I was with him. I remembered that once upon a time, I was also a beloved hero. And though I've made mistakes, then and since, done "bad boyfriend" things and disappointed those I love, how Eddie and I managed to find our way to friendship convinces me that I have it in me somewhere to be a better boyfriend, maybe even a great one.
And though Eddie and I did not find the expected version of 'happily ever after,' we did create our epilogue, this space for ourselves where he highlights for me the best parts of who I was when we were together, bridging that person with the one I am today. Hopefully, I do the same for him.
No comments:
Post a Comment